The first people to bring you down are often the ones who should uplift you—your parents.
I thought they would understand me, my situation, my hesitation. But instead, I felt pressured.
Pressured to apply for a job when I wasn’t ready.
Pressured to move forward on a path I hadn’t chosen for myself.

Every step of my life has been dictated by necessity, not free will. I took the board exam not out of passion, but because it was expected. I reviewed for it because it was required.
And now, I wonder—when will I be heard?

I think back and realize that the dream I once held—to become a psychologist—never unfolded the way I planned.
Maybe life has been unfair to me. Maybe I have yet to taste the freedom I know I deserve.

My sibling was granted the freedom to choose their course and school without hesitation, while I remained bound to the same institution I had attended since kindergarten, taking up BSEd Education.
I never demanded more, knowing that a psychology degree was expensive.
But when my sibling pursued Radiologic Technology, there were no second thoughts—our house was rented out, and we moved to our farm just so they could study.

The issue was never about the course or the school. It was about privilege.
A privilege I was never given by my parents. Perhaps if I had chosen my dream course, I would be a doctor by now.
I recognize that I had some privilege, but it was never the same as theirs.

Yet, I never complained. I learned to live on my own, to survive in the dark without waiting for anyone.
No one knew that I was already drowning.
They were the loudest pain in the room—present, visible, acknowledged. While I was the quiet one bleeding— ignored, unseen, invisible.